


Prompt 4: "Who gave you that black eye?"

by KattsEyeDemon, seekeronthepath



Series: Prompts Project [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Communication, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e12 Master Plan, Gen, Pre-Slash, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out About Werewolves, Supportive Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 05:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13140216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KattsEyeDemon/pseuds/KattsEyeDemon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekeronthepath/pseuds/seekeronthepath
Summary: "Hey, Dad?"John looked up from the TV. "Yeah, kid? You okay?"Stiles took a deep breath. "I'll tell you what happened. If you promise to try not to have a heart attack."-----Stiles tells his father the truth about what's happened in Beacon Hills, with a little help from Derek





	Prompt 4: "Who gave you that black eye?"

Sheriff John Stilinski would be the first to admit that with all the chaos of the last couple of months, he hadn't spent a lot of time with his son lately. And, yes, Stiles' behaviour had been damn suspicious lately, and that whole nonsense with Whittemore's kid and the suspension...it had driven a wedge between them. But John was determined to fix that. _Starting_ with whoever had hurt his son last night.

When Stiles clattered down the stairs ready to go to school, John was waiting. "Hold up a minute, son," he said, holding out his hand. "I think it might be good if you took a day off, don't you think?"

Stiles groaned quietly, closing his eyes (carefully because ow) as he turned around. "Dad, I can't just take a day off." He silently cursed Gerard again ,the split in his lip twinging

"You can," John said steadily. "And I really think you should. Don't think I didn't notice you dodged getting checked out at the hospital last night."

"Ugh, Dad I'm fine." he promised. "no concussion, no internal bleeding." Sure his ribs felt tender, but not broken, his head hurt, but not in the way that would terrify a doctor.

John raised his eyebrows. So there _were_ more injuries than he could see. "You're not going to school, Stiles," he insisted, gesturing to the lounge room. "We're either heading to the hospital, or we're going to sit down and have a chat. Your pick." Or rather, Stiles could choose which happened _first_.

"Arrrgh." Stiles groaned, his shoulders slumping. "Fine, I'll go get checked out." he grumbled. "But I'm fine!" he insisted. True, he really just wanted to crawl back in his bed and sleep some more.

John nodded approvingly. "Sit down and I'll make you some eggs," he said. "You want 'em scrambled or fried?"

"Fried." Stiles sighed, setting his backpack down before heading for the table. "Thanks Dad. For breakfast."

"You're welcome," John said, going to grab the fry-pan. He let Stiles calm down a bit, listening to him fiddling with his phone, then said nonchalantly, "Everyone at the game last night's been accounted for, by the way."

Stiles was almost startled by the sudden words, fumbling with his phone. "What? OH! Good..."

"It is," John agreed, putting a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. "The other team even went home on schedule."

"Good, at least that didn't get messed up." Stiles nodded, fiddling with his phone again, unsure as to where John was going with this.

"You might be interested to hear that all their movements are accounted for," John said lightly, still facing away, "between the game and when the bus left." In other words, Stiles' story about getting beaten up by sore losers couldn't be true.

"Oh?" Fuuuck. Stiles frowned at John's back.

"Mmhm." John grabbed a plate and took the frypan off the heat, serving up the toast and eggs. Setting the plate in front of Stiles and sitting down, he gave the kid a serious look. "So let's try this again, shall we? Who gave you that black eye?"

Stiles shook his head. "Already told you, pops. Sore loser." Sure, it wasn't a sore loser from lacrosse, but still a bitterly sore loser.

John gave Stiles a long look, trying to figure out what was going on with him. "I don't know who you're protecting," he said quietly, "or why you're protecting them. But you deserve the same justice as anyone else in this county, and I want to be able to give it to you."

Stiles smiled softly, carefully. "I know dad. Its ok." S'not like he could just tell him what was going on.

"You getting hurt isn't okay," John said, shaking his head. "But if all you're gonna let me do is look after you now it's happened, I guess I'm gonna have to try to be satisfied with that. For now."

Stiles nodded, keeping his eyes on his food.

\-----

Stiles headed to the kitchen after the trip to the ER, clutching the bottle of painkillers and mentally rolling his eyes at the last few hours.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. _I'm on the roof. Come upstairs and open your window - DH_

Stiles groaned, getting one of his Gatorade bottles out of the fridge before hurrying upstairs, unlocking his window before taking some of the pills.

Derek slipped in through the window and gave Stiles a sharp look. "You're hurt."

"Sharp nose there, Alpha mine." Stiles sat on his bed wearily.

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Am I?" he asked.

"Hm?" Stiles rubbed his temples. "Are you what?"

"Here." Derek reached out, putting one hand on Stiles' wrist and pulling pain. "Am I your alpha?"

Stiles let out a sound of relief, looking up at him. "....yeah." he gave him a tiny smile

Derek didn't smile back. "Did you know what Scott was planning?" he asked roughly.

"No." Stiles shook his head, careful not to shake it to hard. "God no. If I knew...well for one thing I may not have been used as a punching bag..."

Derek's face got even more stony. "Boyd and Erica told me about that," he muttered. "They were worried about you today."

"I'm okay." He nodded, "Are THEY ok??"

Derek tapped Stiles' wrist with one finger where he was holding it. "I can tell exactly how 'okay' you are," he said quietly. "They've healed. They're...shaken. But they'll get better with time."

Stiles shoulders slumped "I'll be okay." he rephrased, looking to the side. "I'm sorry, I tried to help them...."

"Stiles," Derek murmured, waiting for Stiles to meet his eyes before he went on, "you have _nothing_ to apologize for. You've always done your best for me and my pack, and last night was no exception."

"They still got hurt.." And the lying to his dad was weighing in him too. He leaned closer to Derek by instinct, letting out a weary sigh.

A little awkwardly, Derek moved closer, until he was sitting with his thigh pressed against Stiles'. "Sometimes you do your best and fail," he said lowly, thinking of all his own recent failures. "It's not your fault."

Stiles nodded "it just sucks...."

"It does," Derek murmured. "Now, really, are you okay?"

"....yes and no." He admitted with a groan. "I feel like shit, true, but not just because psycho man decided to try and loosen my teeth." He lowered his eyes to the ground. "Dad...."

Derek frowned, squeezing Stiles' wrist. He wasn't pulling pain anymore, just...holding on. "Did he get hurt?"

Stiles shook his head rapidly, groaning a bit as his vision tried to swim. Sure, he didn't have a concussion, but dammit black eyes made your whole head hurt. "He's alright. I just...he won't believe my answer when he asks who gave this to me. And ....I'm tired. it's hard..."

"You've been juggling all the dangers of being pack in contested territory with none of the support," Derek summed up, thinking of all the times he'd seen Scott fail to be there for Stiles.

"I have Sc--....okay No, you're right." Stiles sighed.

“Pack is more than just one person," Derek explained. "Pack is a family. Community."

"Pack helps and supports...." Stiles sighed

"So let us help and support you now," Derek said quietly. "The crisis is over. What do you need?"

"You count me as pack?" he asked, peeking up at him, unable to keep the hope from his voice.

Derek smiled a little, raising his eyebrows. " _You_ called me your alpha," he pointed out.

"Doesn't mean you accept it." Stiles shrugged, corner of his mouth quirking into a tiny grin

Derek shook his head. "I'd be an idiot to turn you away."

Stiles blinked, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"

"Really?" Derek gave Stiles a skeptical look. How could he not know? "You're loyal, resourceful, brave, intelligent, and you've already got close ties with most of my pack."

Stiles gave him a dumbfounded look. "That's....more than I thought you'd say." Though he was happy with it. He would have been just a bit bitter if it DID come down to his kick ass usage of Google-fu.

Derek ducked his head, feeling awkward. "Well, it's true," he muttered.

"No, it's a good thing!" He smiled wider, bumping shoulders with Derek. "C'mon Awkward-Wolf. It's okay. I like hearing that someone likes me for more than I can do with google."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Of course I do. So, now that we've established that you're pack, what do you want to do about your dad?

 

Stiles frowned, looking down at his knees. "I don't know." he murmured. "But this lying..."

"It's hurting your relationship with him," Derek finished. "Have you considered telling him the truth?'

Stiles looked up, eyes wide. "What?" He swallowed. "Yeah, kinda? But how can I keep him safe... I can't lose him too."

Derek let go of Stiles' wrist and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "How does knowing or not knowing affect his safety?"

Stiles opened his mouth before pausing, blinking as he thought. "It doesn't really, does it? Because he's a cop..."

"If people are getting hurt, he's going to go looking," Derek agreed. "It's his job, and it's a job he's committed to."

"But he'll never believe me!" He groaned. "And worse, he'll ground me for life! I can't save your ass if I'm grounded, Derek!"

Derek chuckled. "Well, maybe if we tell him soon enough, you'll be _ungrounded_ by the time I get caught in another life-threatening situation."

Stiles groaned. "I don't want to do it alone." he grumbled. "Scott sure as hell isn't going to help me. He's still chasing after Allison's panties."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Did I mention Scott?"

Stiles shook his head, giving Derek a small smile. "no, you didn't."

"I'll help you if you want me to," Derek said. "Whether that's today or a year from now."

Stiles sucked in a breath, squaring his shoulders and hiding a wince as his ribs protested with a soft twinge. "Now? "he asked, his voice not showing the bravado he felt.

"I'd better come in through the front door if we're telling your dad," Derek pointed out.

Stiles groaned, shoulders slumping. "True. " he swallowed hard. "Okay, let's do this...."

"Do you want me to just demonstrate, or do you want me to help explain?" Derek asked.

"Try for explain and if anything go all no-brow?" Stiles shrugged. "There's not really a protocol with this.."

"I meant, do you want me to talk or will you?"

"Let me start, but I have a feeling you'll be doing most of it." Stiles sighed.

"It's your call," Derek said seriously, getting up. "I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes, okay?"

Stiles sucked in a deep breath, nodding. "I'll ....I'll go talk to Dad, let him know that I'll tell him the truth..."

Derek nodded back, putting his hand on Stiles' shoulder reassuringly. "It's going to be okay," he said. "You're one of the good guys in all this."

Stiles gave Derek a small smile. "you are too." he murmured, leaning into the hand on his shoulder for a moment before heading downstairs.

\-----

"Hey, Dad?"

John looked up from the TV. "Yeah, kid? You okay?"

Stiles took a deep breath. "I'll tell you what happened. If you promise to try not to have a heart attack."

John sat up, muting the television. "I'll get the hot cocoa started," he said, guessing from the look on Stiles' face that this wasn't going to be as simple as a single name.

Stiles shifted from foot to foot, nervous with his heart trying to rabbit out of his chest.

John got up, pulling Stiles into a careful hug, mindful of the kind of injuries implied by the painkillers Stiles had been sent home with. "I love you," he said firmly. "Who hurt you?"

Stiles breathed int deeply. "I love you too, Dad." he whispered, hearing the doorbell. "I'll get it. I promise, I'm not trying to brush it off again, Just...he'll help..." he gave John a tiny smile, slipping free and heading to let Derek inside.

John waited in the kitchen, making hot cocoa for them both. When he turned around, a mug in each hand, and saw _who_ exactly had come in, his eyebrows flew up. "Derek Hale," he said flatly, then looked at Stiles. " _Derek Hale_ is going to help you explain things?"

Stiles winced. "It's better than it probably sounds? And before you ask, Derek was not the one to hurt me."

John watched the two of them for a long moment, then nodded, and went to sit down at the dining table. "Sit," he said firmly. If Derek Hale was involved, then whatever Stiles was involved in had been going on for a long time. "And tell me who it was before you get caught up in the story."

Derek sat silently, trying his best to look respectful and non-intimidating.

Stiles sunk down into his chair, taking a deep breath. "Gerard Argent." He murmured, leaning against the table, his hands around his mug.

"Argent." John's face went stony. "Your principal. Kate Argent's father." He gave Derek a considering look. Could that be the connection to Hale? "Has he hurt you before?"

"Well....not me..." Stiles shifted, flicking his eyes to Derek before sighing. "Anyway. There's a much longer story that I need to tell you.....but first. Swear to me you won't have a heart attack and that you won't ground me for life."

John considered that from all angles before he replied. "My heart is _fine_ , Stiles," he said first. "And...if you tell me the truth, I won't punish you. Amnesty, alright?"

"Do you remember that day you found me and Scott at a crime scene in the Preserve?" Stiles shifted, growing fidgety.

John frowned, glancing at Derek. "Yes..." he said slowly.

Stiles swallowed. "Well Scott was bitten..."

"Bitten by what?" John asked.

Derek looked at Stiles, wondering if this was the time for him to take over.

Stiles groaned. "Werewolf." He murmured, taking a deep breath. "Who'd have thought, huh? One second minding our own business, next, Scotty is some giant dogs chew toy, next day not so chewed on."

 

John raised his eyebrows, looking at Derek. What did Stiles have to offer as proof?

Derek sat up. "Werewolves - people with increased strength, speed, and senses, and the ability for certain limited shape-shifting - have existed for thousands of years, depending on the stories you believe. The condition is hereditary, and humans can also be changed into werewolves by a bite from a pack leader, which is what happened to Scott. The Hale family have been werewolves for longer than we've had that name, and this area has been our territory for over two hundred years." He put one hand flat on the table, and let his fingernails slowly become claws.

"Before you say anything." Stiles quickly butted in, his hand unconsciously going to grip at Derek's shirt at the man's side. "Derek is NOT the one that bit Scott." 

John gave Derek's hand a long look, considering everything and putting the pieces together. "And the 'animal attacks'?" he finally asked.

"A werewolf," Derek confirmed, "but not me."

"Or anyone in our pack." Stiles sighed, rubbing his face and hissing in pain as he brushed against his busted lip and bruised eye. "Though sometimes I wonder about Erica, I know she wouldn't actually hurt anyone though. Sure, Jackson is a jerk, but even he wouldn't rip shreds like a mountain lion."

"Jackson Whittemore?" John asked, frowning. It was unsurprising he was involved, but Stiles considering him an ally rather than an enemy? "And Erica...would that be Erica Reyes?"

Derek was impressed. It was one thing to know the Sheriff had the necessary investigative skills to solve crimes, but it was something else to watch him in action.

Stiles nodded. "They were turned, but voluntarily, unlike Scotty boy. And then there's Boyd, and Isaac. And don't even get me started on the Allison drama." He groaned.

"You're really not making this easy to follow, you know," Derek said, amused, and pleased to see Stiles getting more comfortable.

"It's a talent of mine." Stiles waved his hand, wincing as it tugged on a rib. "Point is, pointy teeth and furry people with no eyebrows is what I deal with on the daily now, Gerard Argent and the Argent family are hunters of said supernatural critters and thought that he could get info from me all because I want to protect my friends and pack."

John pursed his lips. "The Hale fire was a hate crime," he concluded.

Stiles glanced over to Derek, his hand tightening in his shirt.

Derek closed his eyes, swallowing hard. "You could...call it that, sir," he admitted, not realizing how young he sounded.

Stiles scooted closer, gripping Derek's shoulder tightly. "It's okay, Sourwolf."

Derek glanced up and rolled his eyes. "That's a ridiculous nickname," he said gruffly.

"Ridiculous, but nicer than my nicknames for Jackson." Stiles grinned, wincing.

"Derek," John said quietly. "I am deeply sorry that the law in this county has failed to protect you and your family, and failed to provide you with justice for their deaths for so long. I want you to know that you have my support, professionally, and personally. If you need help, feel free to come to me."

Derek didn't notice what Stiles had said, his whole attention caught by the Sheriff's words. "Thank you," he said softly. "I..." He glanced at Stiles. "It's hard to figure out what to do."

 

Stiles grinned again, wincing and groaning softly before turning to John. "Okay, lay on the questions, I know you have them pops." 

John raised his eyebrows, but let Stiles distract him from Derek. "Who was the pack leader that bit Scott? What happened to them? Was Matt Daehler really responsible for the murders? Why did Argent target you?"

Stiles took a deep breath, staying close to Derek. "Alright, The thing about Alpha's is the power can change from wolf to wolf." He leaned forward. "The pack leader at that point was actually a leader of no pack. It was Derek's uncle."

"Alphas meaning pack leaders?" John confirmed. "And are we talking about Peter Hale, or an uncle I don't know about?"

"Yes to both." Stiles nodded, rubbing his hands together nervously. "As for Peter...well..." he sighed, looking to Derek.

"He was insane," Derek said flatly, trying very hard not to think about the fact that Peter was _back_ now. "Werewolves heal very quickly, almost always, but there are certain poisons... Laura and I couldn't stay here, not safely, but it meant that we left him behind, alone and in pain, for years. He wasn't exactly awake, but he wasn't unaware, either."

"Jesus," John muttered, thinking of the condition Peter had been in. "So he woke up somehow?"

Stiles nodded, keeping quiet, letting Derek talk about this part. Because he didn't want to mess it up.

"He woke up somehow," Derek agreed. "We're not sure exactly how. I don't think he was fully aware, but he..." He took a deep breath. "Peter lured my sister here, and killed her. She was my alpha, and killing her passed that power to Peter. The other people he killed were all involved in the fire, as far as we know. He bit Scott, and tried to control him, to make him a...minion, more or less. He attacked Lydia, and kidnapped Stiles. He threatened Scott's mother. He was the one who attacked Stiles and the others at the school."

John raised his eyebrows at Stiles. "The night you and Scott tried to convince me Derek was responsible?"

"Oooookay, to be fair? That was Scott's idea. We thought Derek was dead anyway. I mean his entrails LITERALLY become his extrails." Stiles flailed his arms, groaning and curling in on himself in pain. "Stupid Gerard and his stupid ass necro-wolf self..." He grumbled under his breath, panting softly

"Stiles." Derek pulled his claws in and reached out to take Stiles' wrist. "Sit still."

John's eyes sharpened when he saw Derek's veins darken. "What are you doing?"

"Oh my god." Stiles moaned, his head falling back a bit. "That's better than morphine. And I can't help the flailing, dude-wolf, that's like my state of being." His eyes were half closed as he relaxed, having not even heard his father's question.

"I'm taking his pain," Derek said quietly. "It hurts me less."

Stiles perked up at bit at that. "You can still feel it?!" He Gasped, trying to tug his arm away. "Derek, no!"

Derek let go, but he glared. "I'm happy to do it," he insisted (sounding not at all happy). "You were hurt because of the pack. I don't mind it."

"Because of the pack?" John asked.

Stiles sighed. "Derek..." he frowned, worry in his eyes, even as he held his arm back out to Derek. "I was glad to do it." he insisted softly. "I refuse to let them hurt us." Stiles turned a bit to John. "I was a smart mouth and told Gerard off because he wanted to leave me black and blue for Scott to find and he had Erica and Boyd trussed up like Electrified Turkeys."

"And I'm glad to do this," Derek muttered, taking Stiles' wrist again.

 

"I'm sorry, hold up a second," John said ominously. "You're telling me that Gerard Argent kidnapped and assaulted _three_ teenagers?"

"Also trying to control his granddaughter into shooting all 7 teenagers in our pack with arrows, turning us into pincushions. Luckily enough, Allie has a brain that's not rotten by hunter shittery and black goo." Stiles slumped a bit in his seat as the pain was drained away again. "Not to mention his Daughter...." Stiles drifted off, not sure how much of that Derek wanted to even say.

"She made her own choices," Derek said stiffly.

Stiles winced at the tone,  murmuring "sorry Derek." Under his breath.

"Is there any reason why I SHOULDN'T take you to the station to make a report about him?" John asked.

"Other than the fact that he's a slimy snake and it'll only put YOU in more danger?" Stiles shifted in his seat, worry on his face. "He's got the money and the people in his pocket to keep anything from happening to him anyway, Dad. And besides, " his face darkened. "last I saw him he was dripping black goo, which means the bite rejected, which means he's probably deader than a doornail and eight times as ugly by now."

"If I let wealth and influence prevent me from pursuing justice, I'd be a pretty poor Sheriff," John pointed out.

"Yeah, but he's influence goes beyond Beacon Hills even, Dad." Stiles sighed softly, rubbing at his forehead. "Goo-wolf isn't here anymore anyway."

"We don't know that for sure," Derek pointed out, giving John a grateful look.

"True." Stiles sighed, tilting his head at John. "As for your other question. Yes Matt was responsible, as was Gerard." he sighed, resting his chin on his free hand.

"The victim profile changed," John guessed. "And what about Peter? What happened to him?"

Stiles tilted his head, looking over to Derek. he didn't want to say anything that could get them in trouble.

"He's...still around," Derek hedged. "We drove him off, and managed to transfer his...status to me, but he showed up again about a week ago."

John hummed skeptically. "So, hypothetically, I could charge him for the murders he committed?"

"If you had the evidence, or a confession, sure." Stiles shrugged, resting his chin on one hand again, the other still wrapped by Derek's, feeling no pain once again.

"But it would be risky," Derek warned. "Like I said, we're stronger than humans, and our senses are better - and Peter is cunning besides all that. Handcuffs, for example, would be easy to break."

"And there's the fact that CreeperWolf is a pain in the ass on a good day." Stiles hummed.

John gave Stiles a sharp look. "Creeper?"

"Gives off those vibes and the smirk he has." he shrugged again, not wanting his father to panic.

John narrowed his eyes. "Has he done any more than that?"

"Meh, held my wrist and stood a bit too close to offer the bite to me a while back." Stiles shifted. "Didn't do anything more than that though."

 

Derek sat up straight, frowning at Stiles. "I didn't know about that. He offered, but didn't bite you?"

Stiles nodded. "Said I'd make an amazing wolf.That he should have bitten me, not Scott."

"He was right about that, but for your sake, I'm glad he didn't," Derek said. "Why didn't he bite you?"

Stiles grinned. " I told him I didn't want him to bite me."

"And that _worked?_ " Derek shook his head. "...I don't think I'll ever understand my uncle."

"Dude, if you don't, no one will." Stiles laughed softly. "But yeah. He just kinda pouted in his creeper way. Though wait...you agree with him?" Stiles blinked in surprise. Derek thought he'd make a good wolf too?

John watched the interplay curiously, taking note that Peter Hale was apparently trouble for all concerned.

"Of course I do," Derek told Stiles. "If you hadn't made it clear your loyalty was to Scott rather than me, I would have offered."

Stiles gave Derek a huge grin, not caring that it tugged at his split lip. It meant a lot to him that Derek would offer.

"Why would Stiles' loyalty to Scott be a problem?" John asked, concerned.

Derek looked at Stiles, letting him take this one.

Stiles' face darkened. "not that he has it right now. But Scott doesn't want to be in Derek's pack. Hates him even. But honestly, Derek." Stiles tilted his face to the Alpha. "He doesn't have it anymore. Not after last night."

"What did he do?" John asked.

Stiles got visibly angry. "He forced Derek into biting Gerard. Against his will. He USED Derek because he was HELPING Gerard. And he didn't care that I had gotten beat up."

John frowned. "I should have a word with him," he murmured. "I'm assuming Melissa doesn't know?"

"She does actually." Stiles pursed his lips. "Found out on accident, but she did find out.." He turned to Derek. "He doesn't have it anymore, by the way." Stiles insisted. "Even if he really is sorry, he fucked up my trust, and what he did to you was totally uncalled for and frankly if it wouldn't break my hand, I'd probably punch him in the face."

"I need to teach you how to punch," Derek joked quietly, but his eyes were sincere and appreciative.

 

"Are you - the both of you, and your pack, Derek - likely to continue to be in danger?" John asked, concerned.

"You guys need softer faces." Stiles snarked playfully, a grin curling his lips before he turned back to his dad. "Honestly? Probably. I swear we're on a Hellmouth."

Derek shook his head a little. "It's...this is contested territory right now," he explained. "Peter disrupted the status quo, bringing the supernatural leadership into contention. I took it from him, and now I have to prove I can hold it. Maybe people will leave me alone, and maybe they won't." He really didn't want to explain the whole debacle with Jackson. "The Argents...it's something like a blood feud. Gerard was aggressive, but he might be dead. If he is, we might be at risk from his followers or relatives. Chris has generally been more moderate, but I don't know how he'll respond to it all, especially what happened to Victoria. Allison has the potential to be sympathetic, and traditionally she would be quite important in the decision-making of the family, but she's also gone back and forth and I'm not going to rely on her. Realistically? Things will eventually settle down once all the power relationships are settled, but that will take time."

"And before you go getting any clues. I'm not backing out of this." Stiles frowned at his father. "Even if I did, I'd still be in the hot seat becaues of my relation TO the pack, regardless on if I"m actively in it. And you know me better than to just expect me to sit aside and let my friends get hurt."

John raised his eyebrows. "I do know better," he said. "And I hope you know _me_ better than to think _I_ would stand aside and let you and other teenagers go into a dangerous situation without backup, preparation, and _adult_ support."

"We got this big lug." Stiles patted Derek's chest. "Though, honestly, he's not much of an adult, probably need an adultier adult." he mused. "You aren't that much older after all." He sighed. "I know you Dad, you can't blame me for putting that out there before you went on a tangent about how there's no way in hell you were going to let me do this." Stiles shrugged.

"I'm twenty-two!" Derek objected, even if privately he often doubted his own ability to lead.

John snorted. "Son," he said, looking straight at Derek, "twenty-two just means you're old enough to make your own choices. It doesn't mean you're old enough not to need help. Now, I recognize that you know a lot more about this business than me, but I've got plenty of experience you don't, and I want you to know that if Stiles insists on being involved in all this, then I'm going to be as well. So you call on me, any time, understand?"

Stiles grinned wider, rubbing Derek's shoulder. "And dad is much older. Adultier adult."

Derek bit his lip, swallowing hard. "I appreciate that, sir," he said, his voice a little rough.

Stiles smile softened, leaning close to him for comfort.

 

John nodded firmly. "I'm sure there's a lot I still don't know, but this is enough to take in all by itself. Stiles, are you willing to come to the station and make a report about Gerard assaulting you? Even if he's dead, I could probably get a warrant to search his house for evidence, and _that_ could bring up evidence for other crimes the Argents have been involved in."

Stiles nodded after a moment. "Yeah, I can do that." He turned to look at Derek, murmuring under his breath. "Pack looks after pack."

"Even with what Stiles said about his influence, sir?" Derek asked, even if he was secretly relieved.

"I'm not letting the Argents get away with crimes just because they're dangerous," John said firmly. "And if someone threatens you boys in future, I want to know about it. If you work _with_ me, I can help protect you."

Stiles grinned, leaning forward. "Oh, I don't plan on secrets now."

John laughed. "No, just shenanigans," he agreed, standing up. "Come on, then. Are you coming along too, Derek?"

Derek looked at Stiles, silently asking if he was welcome.

Stiles smiled, his hand grabbing Derek's arm. "C'mon, Sourwolf." Stiles whispered.

Derek rolled his eyes and stood up. "That's a really stupid nickname," he pointed out.

"You like it, Alpha-mine" Stiles grinned wider.

John watched, amused, as Derek softened. "Come on, trouble-makers," he said. "Let's get going."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading - let us know what you think!


End file.
